


Lost Remote

by SnowWhiteKnight



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Attempt at Humor, Break Up, F/M, Happy Ending, Jealousy, LJ SanSan Fest 2015, Orgasm Denial, Public Masturbation, Two Happy Endings, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 18:10:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5636803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowWhiteKnight/pseuds/SnowWhiteKnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>LJ Prompt: SanSan Fest 2015 - Modern AU... Delayed orgasm. Sansa wears/has to wear a strap-on vibrator under her skirt at a dinner party or somewhere public (Joffrey forcing her? Or no Joff, but a lost bet?). Then, Sansa notices that Sandor gets into control of the remote control - and Sandor is enthusiastic to watch Sansa desperately trying to control herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost Remote

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Maracuya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maracuya/gifts).



> Many thanks to SassyEggs for listening to me
> 
> 01/05/2017 Gifting to Maracuya, since she was the one that submitted the prompt in the first place. :)

_ Oh, gods, why did I think I could get away with this? _ she thought to herself.  _ Dammit, Mya, I will get you for this. I am never taking advice from you again! _ The box seat she sat in was high above the rest of the crowd. Harry had invited her (after some very unsubtle prompting) to see this live opera performance of  _ The War of the Five Kings _ , but as soon as they got there, he had excused himself to get drinks in the lobby and she doubted she'd see him until the curtains went up on the first act. She had, however, seen the one man she did (and at the same time didn’t) want to see right now. Sandor Clegane. He was in another box seat, she knew it belonged to the Baratheons, just as she had known he would be sitting in it tonight, and as soon as he saw Harry leave, Sandor had gotten up and she just  _ knew _ he was going to join her.  _ Well, that is part of the plan, after all, though it’s too soon. Ugh, my heart is beating so quickly. This is never going to work! _ She tugged on the tight skirt of her blue dress, pulling it up a little to show a bit more leg, and flipping her hair over her shoulder. She held her white russian daintily, making sure she was the picture of cool and collected when he inevitably sauntered into the box. Sure enough, a few moments later, he entered the box and plopped down in Harry’s vacated chair. He gave her a once over, his gaze lingering on her exposed shoulders. He always loved seeing her shoulders, loved peppering kisses across the creamy skin. She had chosen this dress specifically for that reason. It helped that it was also one of his favorite colors on her.

“Why am I not surprised that the little bird loves musical tragedies?” he sneered. The scarred half of his face twisted harshly, but he hadn’t been able to scare her in a very long time, and his words didn’t hold any malice. She actually wasn’t that interested in this particular production. She was only here because she knew he would be here. His employer, Robert, enjoyed many luxuries in his lifestyle, but he wasn’t above sharing them with his employees. Many months ago, Sandor had mentioned to her that he wanted to see this opera, and that he could get permission to use the Baratheons box to see it, free of charge. Historical operas were near the bottom of her list, but she knew he liked pretty much anything that involved the history of Westeros, and if he had asked her, she would have come with him, instead of Harry the Arse.  _ But he didn’t ask me. Not then, not now. And he’s not going to ask in the future, unless you get this stupid plan to work. Focus, Sansa! _

“I am the one who should be surprised,” she snipped at him, but she was smiling. “Never pegged you for opera. At least, not this kind.”  _ Hopefully, he doesn’t remember telling me about it. _

“War, violence, ladies with big boobs and pitches that can crack glass. What’s not to like?” he joked. She rolled her eyes. “So where’s the cunt who brought you?” he asked flippantly, but she knew he didn’t like to see her with other men. At least, that’s what she hoped was his reason for asking. 

“Who knows? Probably at the bar, ordering the first of many drinks.”  _ For other women, _ she thought, but it was not something she was going to say out loud. She wasn’t attracted to Harry, was only fake dating him to get Sandor jealous, but she didn’t want him dead. And he  _ would  _ be a dead man if Sandor found out. Ex-girlfriend or not, Sandor didn’t tolerate cheaters. “I’m sure he’ll be back soon. I hope he doesn’t get too handsy though. Father was not pleased about the last time.”  _ Like hells I’d ever let him actually touch me. _

“What?!” She bit back a grin when Sandor’s mouth dropped open a bit.

“Oh, yeah, nothing too serious, but highly inappropriate for a function like that. It’s nothing I can’t handle though,” she said, examining her nails.

“I’ll kill him--”

“Don’t even think about it,” she hissed. She knew she was walking a very fine line when she taunted him like this, but she had to be extreme if she was going to get what she wanted. “You gave up any claim to me the moment you said you wouldn’t speak to my father about us.”

He frowned, “You know why I couldn’t.”

“Bullshit,” she spat out. “You’re afraid.” He looked away from her. She knew she was hitting him hard with this, and she did feel bad about it, but she wasn’t about to pull any punches. She had done that before, and where had that gotten her? Nowhere. But in between the punches, she had to show him the way. She couldn’t let her bitterness of him letting her go get in the way. She softened her voice, “Sandor, just speak to him, and I’ll be yours. Forever.”

“Have fun with your pretty boy,” he said darkly, standing up from the chair. He kicked her purse by accident, completely ruining his brooding exit. “Fuck.”

“Don’t worry, I got it. Run away, Sandor. You’re good at that.”  _ Ok, maybe I’m a bit more bitter than I thought. Damnit! Why does he have to be so stubborn?! _ She bent down to pick up her things and stuff them back into her purse. She didn’t notice Sandor bend down, didn’t see him retrieve a small white object that had skidded behind her chair. She only pretended not to notice when he left.

**********

_ Damnit, Harry, where in the Seven Hells are you? _ The first act had started, and her fake date still hadn’t come back to his seat. Her texts to him went unanswered as well.  _ My plan won’t work if you’re not here! _ She pulled out her phone to discreetly text Myranda.

**Is Harry with you already?**

**Randa: No, haven’t seen him at all.**

_ Shit. _

**Ok, let me know if you see him. Plan is on hold until he comes back.**

**Randa: Got it. Sorry, hun.**

She sighed and leaned back into her seat. The opera wasn’t as boring as she had expected, though her mind drifted to what had started this whole thing. She had been drinking with Mya, Myranda and Margaery ( _ Geez, I have too many friends with M names _ ), telling them about how she was madly in love with Sandor, but that he had been insistent that they keep their relationship a secret, and that he had actually walked away from her when she wanted to go public about it. “Shouldn’t it have been the other way around?” she had asked them.

Mya had thought up the general plan of dating someone else to make Sandor jealous. Sansa’s mother had been pushing her to go out with Harry, so they at least had a guy lined up. Myranda had upped the stakes and said to make it lead up to a specific outing: 1) Get Harry to take her somewhere that Sandor would be. 2) Make Sandor super duper jealous. 3) Tell Sandor to grow a pair and talk to her father about their relationship or else. Margaery was the most helpful, telling Sansa that she had seen the official request Sandor had submitted to use the box seats for  _ The War of the Five Kings. _ Sansa had completely forgotten about it until Margaery reminded her, but knew it was her best option. Margaery worked for Baratheon Enterprises, just like Sandor, and she was the personal assistant to Sandor’s immediate boss, Tyrion Lannister. They had one month before the play to make it known to Sandor that Sansa had moved on. One month of the gossips (read: Margery and Tyrion) whispering in his ear, one month of “casually running into him while out with Harry”, one month of complete and utter boredom being Harry’s armcandy. She had hoped that that would be enough to get him to come back to her (she refused to beg him any more than she already had), but it hadn’t, and here she was.

She had asked Myranda what the “or else” would be, but none of them could think of anything besides “give up on Sandor forever.” She didn’t want to, but what else could she do? 

Harry had no idea he was being used, and probably would have refused if she had asked. His pride was only second to his obliviousness. Hells, he still wasn’t sure what her actual name was, but that was of little consequence. Tonight was the final night of this charade, one way or another. Tonight’s plan, courtesy of Mya, was ludacris. She was  _ supposed _ to get Sandor to see her with Harry, which had happened, but not like it was supposed to play out. After seeing them together, and when Sandor wasn’t looking, Harry would disappear. He would leave the box seat and be detained by Myranda, but Sandor wouldn’t know that. He was only supposed to see that one minute Harry was there, then the next he wasn’t, but Sansa would be in ecstasy, supposedly being giving oral sex from Harry. 

In truth, she was wearing a strap-on vibrator to give her illusion more credibility. She knew she couldn’t fake pleasure, but she could subdue actual reactions so that they wouldn’t be noticeable to anyone  _ but _ Sandor. He knew her well enough to know when she was excited. Unfortunately, he knew her well enough that it would be obvious to him if she was doing it herself with her own hands, which is why she would hide the small remote in her hand. The volume of the opera would cover any noises she did make (she hoped) and Sandor would (theoretically) realize that he didn’t want anyone else but himself doing those things to Sansa, and would come “rescue” her. Once he did that, she would reveal that Harry hadn’t even been in the box, and he would be so thrilled, they’d go straight to Ned Stark and tell him they were going to be together.

She sighed again.  _ Oh, the drunken plans of four idiots. It’s so stupid, but maybe, just maybe, it will work. _ She leaned forward, her elbows on the railing of the box, concentrating on the story. The incest born king was about to be crowned after the drunk king’s death.

The sudden buzz in her panties nearly knocked her out of her chair. The woman in the next box looked over at her harshly, but Sansa could only shrug and smile helplessly.  _ What the hells was that? _

The second buzz startled her as well, but she managed to keep her composure for the most part. The third buzz was not as strong as the first or second, but it lasted longer, and she was struggling to catch her breath once it stopped.  _ Oh, fuck, that felt too good! No wonder Mya recommended this one! _

She reached down for her purse.  _  I must have knocked the remote, and it’s just reacting to being shuffled around in my purse. Of course, that has to be it. _ She searched the purse. Twice. It wasn’t there. Carefully, she looked around her chair. Not on the floor either.  _ Shit, when could it have gotten lost? _ She thought back. She had stuffed it into the purse right before Harry picked her up. It may have fallen out in the car, but she didn’t think it would have the range to reach the box from the parking lot. It was unlikely that Harry would have picked it up. She had dropped her purse in the lobby, but now that she thought about it, she was fairly certain she had seen the remote after that. That only left…  _ When Sandor knocked the contents from my purse! _ She looked over at him, but he was deeply engrossed in the story.  _ Ok, so probably not him. He would want me to know if he had that kind of control over me. _

The vibrator started buzzing softly again. Sandor hadn’t moved.  _ Crap, definitely not him. _ She looked around. No one she could see was doing anything suspicious, except for a Dornish couple across the theatre, but they were more involved with each other than paying attention to anything else. Closing her eyes, she focused on not letting the buzzing affect her, until it stopped. She was breathing heavily as she pulled out her phone again to text Myranda.

**Change of plans. Lost the remote. Someone’s got a hold of it, but I don’t know who. Going to take this stupid thing off.**

**Randa: You sure? Might as well let someone take you to O-town.**

Sansa sighed, and smacked her hand against her forehead in frustration.  _ Of course she would think that! _

**This plan was far-fetched to begin with. I don’t want some random stranger giving me something I only want from Sandor.**

**Randa: But you and Harry…**

**We’ve been over this, I don’t let him touch me like that. EVER. Besides, wasn’t that part of YOUR plan to capture Harry? I blueball him or whatever, and then he seeks comfort in your arms. I seem to recall you saying “two birds, one stone.”**

**Randa: Right. Sorry. Too many cocktails. You want to leave then?**

**No, this play is more interesting than I thought it would be. I’ll just pop over to the restroom, remove the vibe, then come back and enjoy the rest of the story.**

She paused. It was weird that Myranda was worried over her actually taking Harry, so she felt she should be honest with her friend.

**At least Harry isn’t around to ruin it. Wherever he is, I hope he stays there. No offense, I know you like him a lot, but he just drives me up a wall.**

**Randa: how much longer do you think you’ll stay with him?**

Sansa looked over at Sandor. He hadn’t let his gaze stray from the opera. Her heart was breaking, and she knew what she needed to do.

**I’m breaking it off tonight. I’m giving up this plan to win Sandor back.**

**Randa: New plan then?**

**No. No more plans. I’m done. It’s been six months since he walked away. Clearly, I’m not worth his attention, and it’s about time I come to terms with that. Maybe Tyrion could help me find a job in the Essos branch of BE. Idk. If you find Harry, have at him.**

She put her phone away.  _ Oh, it’s the sad conclusion to the first act, the beheading of the honorable lord. I can wait to go to the restroom during the intermission. _ She felt bad that she had missed out on so much of the first act, but Sandor had told her enough about it that she wasn’t lost on the story. Her phone buzzed as the intermission lights went on.

**Sandor: If you’re bored enough to be texting, you should probably just go home.**

She glared at him, and made sure he saw her put the phone down without responding to him. He frowned and sent her another message. Her phone lit up and she read it.

**Sandor: I’m not kidding. You’re being distracted.**

**Sandor: Distracting* Ducking autocorrect.**

**Sandor: Ducking***

**Sandor: FUCKING***

She laughed. She had missed this, the banter, the stupid texts, his amusing rages about autocorrect.  _ Damnit. _ Why did he have to be so... _ him? _ Just this little bit of interaction and she was being overwhelmed by the memories. Being with him, loving him and being loved by him, it had been the happiest time of her life. Why hadn’t he wanted more with her? Was she just not enough? Was he seeing anyone else? That would explain why he didn’t want to come back, if he had moved on, but if he was seeing someone else, then why did he still get jealous seeing her with Harry? He was a mystery, wrapped in an enigma, covered in pure frustration. But he had been  _ her _ frustration. She chugged the remainder of her drink, the vodka and coffee liqueur going straight to her head. 

**I apologize SER. I will be more attentive to the opera. I promise, no more texting!**

She looked up at him, he was smiling as he read her text. She only called him “ser” to needle him, and he knew it. His fingers flew across the keyboard, reminding her of how they once nimbly played across her skin, how he would be so gentle with his rough, calloused hands, how he would pleasure her with those nimble fingers, how he would use his body in tandem with hers, how he could tell her anything--  _ No, Sansa, don’t think about that. You’ll just end up crying. Again. You’ve given him enough of your tears. _

_ He said he loved me. He lied. _

_ He never lies. Not to you. _

Her phone buzzed.

**Sandor: Fine. But I see one more text during the opera, and I’m chucking your phone into the Bay.**

She didn’t respond to that one, merely nodded her head in agreement when he was looking.

**Sandor: Damnit, Sansa, I said during the opera. You can still text now. It’s intermission.**

She made a face at him and then turned her head away purposely.  _ I don’t need to text anyone. Except for you. And that’s dangerous. I might end up changing my mind about giving up. _ She clenched her jaw in frustration.  _ One more text. _ She pulled up the message thread to Myranda.

**I think I will leave now afterall. Seeing Sandor like this… This was a bad idea. I’m not strong enough, Randa. I can’t sit here and know that once this thing is over, I’ll probably never see him again. Or if I do, he’ll be with someone else. Knowing he loves her, is kissing her, making babies with her. I want him to be happy, but if it’s not with me, I won’t be able to see it and not relive the pain of losing him over and over again. I wanted all of him, and I can’t have it because I’m not enough. All he has to do is talk to my father, be brave enough to tell everyone about us. He can’t do that. He won’t do that. I’m not worth it, not to him. I don’t know who his future wife is, but I hate her, because she will be worth it and I want to stab something and I CAN’T do this. I’m just going to call a cab. Once the lights go down for the second act, I’ll sneak out. If I leave now, he’ll see me, and that will be worse. Think you can convince Harry to take you home?**

**Randa: Sure, hun. You sure you want to give up on your guy? It doesn’t sound like it to me.**

Sansa stared at the phone. Did she want to? No. Was she sure it was the right thing to do? Yes. 

**I don’t want to but… My heart is already in pieces. Throwing myself at him like I’ve been doing, trying to convince him to come back, and then with this fake dating thing with Harry...it just makes me pathetic, and gives him more confirmation that breaking up with me was the right thing to do. I need to at least leave Westeros with SOME of my dignity intact. Maybe someday, I’ll meet someone else who’s even half the man Sandor is, but it’s not going to be here, where I can see him and be reminded of him and his stupid awesomeness, flawed though he may be.**

**Randa: He was flawed beyond reason. How did you put up with him?**

**Hey, watch it. I like his flaws. Hells, he wouldn’t be as great a guy without them, ya know? I love him for who he is. I’m the one who wasn’t good enough, the one who’s trying to force him to be with someone he doesn’t even want, the one who’s too stupid to realize he’s never going to come back, the one who gave up a job offer just because I couldn’t let him go yet. Gods, I feel pathetic just admitting all that, but there you have it.**

**Randa: Do you regret it?**

**No. The job thing, I mean, don’t regret that. I’d give up all the job offers if it meant I could be with him again. I do regret putting him through so much uselessness on my part. Crap. I’m going to start crying again. Don’t tell Mya or Margaery, ok? I know they were really rooting for us to get back together.**

**Oh, Tyrion either. I think he was planning a surprise party for it.**

**Randa: Are you going to tell him you’re leaving? Westeros, I mean, not the theatre.**

**No, probably for the best that way. He won’t notice there’s one less bird in town. Lights are flickering. Second act is about to begin shortly. I’ll be leaving the box soon. See you tomorrow?**

**Randa: Of course. Tomorrow.**

Sansa saw Sandor watching her. She made a gesture with her hands,  _ What? _

He waved his phone at her, then began texting.

**Sandor: Trying to find your boy toy?**

Sansa sighed. Of course he would ask her that.

**Something like that.**

**Sandor: Well? Where’d he go?**

A headache was starting to take root in her front lobe.  _ Why does he even want to know? _

**No idea. The police are SCOURING the building looking for him. I’m sure he’ll turn up soon enough.**

**Sandor: Why are you going out with a guy who ignores you so much?**

She rolled her eyes.

**Not really your business anymore.**

**Sandor: I’m just concerned. As your friend.**

_ Oh? We’re friends now? News to me. Stop it, Sansa.  _

**Fine. As my friend, I’ll have you know…**

She stared at the phone. 

**Sandor: Know what?**

She knew he was watching her. She wanted to lie, but he always knew when she was lying.  _ Well, usually knows. _ Plus, she was tired of lying to him. It didn’t matter, a lie or a truth, he wasn’t coming back to her.  _ Well, I guess I can’t tell him the whole truth, considering...eh, a part of the whole truth will suffice. _

**I’ll have you know, he’s a bore. I’m only going out with him because my mother thought it would be a good match. I’m breaking up with him next time I see him.**

**Sandor: Oh.**

**Put your phone away, friend. Lights are going down, and there’s some maniac who’s threatening to chuck any cellphones he sees into the Bay.**

**Sandor: :P Jerk.**

She waited a few minutes, until he was fully concentrated on the story again. The non-knight was saving the honorable lord’s stupid daughter from killing the incest born king by pushing the brat into the moat. It was one of her favorite parts of the story, despite the sadness it entailed. She hated to leave at that part, but she rose from her seat slowly, only to have the full power of the vibrator knock her back down. The woman in the next box actually shushed her. It turned off again, but she was seeing stars.  _ Oh gods, I should have ignored his stupid fuckin’ text and gone to the stupid fuckin’ bathroom to remove this STUPID FUCKIN’ VIBRATOR. _ Clearly, even just being around him like this was having an effect on her speech patterns. She always did curse more after they hung out. Or maybe it was because she had had two white russians and zero food. She tended to curse more when she was tipsy.

She looked around, no one was watching her. She moved to get up again, but the buzzing turned on again and stopped her.  _ Oh gods, why does it have to feel so good? Damnit Sansa! Focus! One foot in front… of...oh gods… _

She sat back down, her legs were weak. The buzzing intensified.  _ Fight it, Sansa!  _ She put her head down on the railing, her breath coming in short and fast. The buzzing decreased, but was still present. She couldn’t look up. If she looked at Sandor, and he saw her, he would know. If she looked at Sandor, and the buzzing intensified again, she would shatter, and she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t let someone else shatter her while Sandor looked on. It would be too much.  _ Gods, I’m so pathetic, he breaks my heart, and I’m still faithful to him. Stupid, faithful Sansa. That’s what they’ll write on my tombstone. Underneath it: She died of a broken heart and a mind shattering orgasm. Fuck, I have to get this to stop. Delayed orgasms only get more intense the longer they go on. _ She had learned that lesson very well from Sandor. 

She managed to get to the seats further back in the box, before she had to sit down again.  _ Great, I moved all of two fuckin fee-OHMYGODS I HATE WHOEVER HAS THAT GODSBEDAMNED REMOTE!! _ She bit her lip, trying to ride out the high intensity. She almost wished she could manage to be unfaithful, and let the bliss wash over her once and for all.  _ I really do need a good fucking. No, Sansa, that’s the vibe talking. Sort of. Oh gods, when will it stop?! _ The intensity subsided. She heard footsteps behind the curtain that separated the box from the hallway.  _ I swear to the gods, if that’s Harry, I will murder him. _ A head peeked in.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she muttered. “What are  _ you _ doing here?!”

“You seemed to be having some trouble. Thought I could help,” Sandor whispered. She had never wanted to punch him more than she did right now. “Plus, you have a way better spot than the Baratheons. How did your boy toy manage that?”

The buzzing had not subsided completely, and it took her a while to be able to form words. “Not...don’t say boy toy… His...godmother, I think? Some relative. Owns the theatre. Oh, gods…” The buzzing intensified again.

“You ok?” he asked.

“No,” she hissed. “Not ok. Must leave. NOW.”

“What? But you’ll miss the big climax,” he said.

“Oh gods, don’t say climax,” she whispered as the buzzing increased a little more. Her grip on the back of the chair was leaving her white-knuckled.

“Why, Sansa Stark, are you masterbating? In public?” His smug grin was too much. He used to grin at her like that when she was putty in his hands. She was close to losing it.

She closed her eyes and whimpered, “Not on purpose! Will you  _ please _ close the damn curtains?!”

He took pity on her and stepped inside the box, letting the curtains fall closed. He also closed the front curtains enough so that no one from the nearby boxes could see them, and only the actors were in their line of sight. He sat on the chair next to her and pulled her onto his lap, so that they were both facing the stage, though neither of them were paying any attention to the opera anymore. His warmth and strength held her. It was wonderful, it was horrible.  _ Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods, please make it stop. I can’t do this! _

“Let go, Sansa,” he rasped in her ear.  _ Why?! Why is he doing this? He KNOWS what his voice does to me! _

“No…” she said weakly.

“Why not?” His hand was rubbing circles on her tummy, much too low to be helpful. Quite detrimental, actually.

“I can’t…” The buzzing calmed a bit.

“Why?”

“I...I don’t know...who...who’s doing this... _ oh gods _ …” It intensified again. She was going to lose her mind if she didn’t get the damned thing off of her.  _ Or if I don’t get off, _ she thought inanely.

“Does it matter?” It decreased again. Her head was spinning.

“No...and yes…” she mumbled.

“Why?”

“It doesn’t...matter...who it is...because...they’re not... _ they’re not you,” _ she cried out at the sudden increase and decrease. Her body was limp against his, but still no release.

“You would do this to yourself, put yourself through this, just so that someone who isn’t me couldn’t give you an orgasm?”

“Yes,” she whimpered. “I don’t want anyone, but you...I only want you…”

“Fuck...Sansa…”

_ “I know, _ I’m sorry. I’m  _ pathetic _ .” She was crying, feeling even worse, since she had sworn to never cry over him again.

“No, don’t say that.” He gripped her tightly around her waist. “I’m the one who should be sorry. I’m the pathetic one. I pushed you away when all you wanted was to be with me, and that’s all I wanted, too. You were right. I was afraid. I still am, but...” He held her with one arm, and pulled his phone out with his free hand. She couldn’t see what he was doing, but she soon heard a familiar voice.

_ “Hello?” _

“Mr. Stark?”

_ “Clegane? How are you doing, m’boy? Haven’t heard from you in a while.” _

“I’m well. I’m sorry, ser, I don’t have much time right now. I just wanted to tell you, I’m in love with Sansa, and I’m going to ask her to marry me. I know we have an age gap, but...I hope you will give us your blessing.” She felt him hold his breath. She would have too, but between the vibration against her clit, and the fact that she knew the answer already, she just wasn’t up to it.

_ “Oh, of course. Come by for dinner on Sunday. The whole family will be there, you can make a formal announcement then.” _

“I...yes, ser. Thank you, ser.” He hung up the phone.

“Told you…” she said. “All you had... to do... was talk to him…”

“Yeah, you did,” he whispered. “Will you take me back? Even though I’ve been a complete and utter--”

“Yes!” she said. “Oh gods, yes.”

“Are you answering me, or whatever’s working itself against you?”

“You, you ass. Help me... get this thing off...we can watch the rest... of the opera, then get...oh gods...get the fuck out of here. Harry...he could be back...any minute...”

Sandor laughed quietly. “Not bloody likely.”

“W-what?”

“First, that kid can’t take a fucking punch. He was out like a light when I barely touched him. Second,” he pulled another phone from his pocket. “Your friend isn’t very watchful of her things. Randa, I think you called her. She went with your boy toy to the hospital. Neither of them is coming back tonight.”

“Not my boy…” she mumbled. “How long...Randa’s phone…” The vibrations were getting to her, especially since she had just heard him say he wanted to marry her. It had lowered her defenses considerably.

“Since I left this box earlier. Made a detour to the lobby. Easy enough to mimic her texting patterns,” he rumbled in her ear. “Third, why take that thing off, when  _ I _ can get you where you so desperately need to go?” Her eyes went wide as he held up the lost remote. “I admit, I got jealous, thinking you were going to give that cunt the remote, let him do to you what I had done to you. I wanted to make you squirm, but then you told  _ Randa _ that you only wanted me to get your orgasm from  _ me. _ That didn’t make sense, unless you were only using him to get to me.” She watched him pushed the intensity level up a notch. He kissed her shoulders as she bit her lip to muffle her cries, her fingers digging into the arm that held her. 

“Don’t come yet, girl. Not done with you. All those things you said, about how you weren’t good enough for me. Let me tell you, it’s complete bullshit. You’re fucking perfect. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, especially me. I’m the idiot that walked away from that perfection. You’ve taken me back, and I will make up the last six months to you, I swear it, starting with this,” he wiggled the remote. 

“I will take you out on dates, to dinners, to movies, hells, I’ll take you to visit Essos if you want. I will make it up to you, and I will never let my insecurities make you doubt yourself ever again. When you said you were going to give up on me, that you were going to leave, because you wanted  _ me  _ to be happy, but that you couldn’t watch it happen... I couldn’t let you leave. Not when I felt the same way about you and that pretty boy. My heart dropped when you said you weren’t going to tell me about it, that you really thought I wouldn’t notice your absence. Fuck, Sansa, I noticed. I noticed it the day I left you, and it’s been fucking haunting me ever since. Seeing you with that cunt this past month, it was like a knife twisting in my gut, but I couldn’t say anything, because  _ I _ did that,  _ I _ let you go. Finding out...that was the final straw. You would do it too, you’d leave, never tell me, and I would never have known, and that fucking hurt like all the Seven Hells, but I’d have no one to blame for it except myself. Then you went and confirmed what you told  _ Randa, _ admitted to me the truth. I realized it was my last chance. If I didn’t act now, I’d lose you forever. I needed to hear you say it, though, so I...” The hand holding the remote fell to his side.

She felt him trembling, “I’m sorry, Sansa. I love you more than my own life. I wanted you to be happy, to find your perfect prince.”

“Du-dummy,” she muttered. “My per-perfect prince...is a sc-scarred old dog.”

He chuckled, “So it would seem.”

“I-I lo-love you, Sandor,” she whispered. “P-please, may I c-come?”

“Yes, come for me, little bird,” he whispered in her ear, turning up the intensity a few more notches. Her cries of pleasure were drowned out by the ensuing battlecries from the stage. He barely noticed the scratch marks she left on his arm. Sandor held her tightly as she came down from her euphoria. He had turned the remote down to zero and taken out the batteries before stuffing it all into his pocket. “Better?” he asked. She nodded weakly. “Good, the battle on the bay is underway. Nearly done.”

“Oh, when the non-knight tries to get the stupid girl to go with him?”

“Uh, yeah, but she’s not stupid, she’s just...unsure. She trusts him, but she doesn’t trust the rest of the world,” he explained patiently.

“That’s why she’s stupid. She should trust that he would have taken care of her. He was the only person who truly cared for her wellbeing! He should have just stolen her,” Sansa pointed out.

“Maybe,” Sandor said with a smile. “I’m glad to know you were listening when I told you about it, but that’s not how the story goes.”

“Well, it should. If I was that girl, and you were the non-knight, I would have followed you to the ends of the earth,” she said, watching the non-knight demand a song from the girl. “I would give you all the songs, and then make up more.”

“Well, this is based on historical fact. Maybe in another lifetime, they were able to be together,” Sandor pointed out. “Reincarnation or something like that.”

“I hope so,” Sansa said. “I really hope so.” 


End file.
